


Cruel to be kind - Untitled flashback scene

by TheAwfulDodger



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Asphyxiation, Body Horror, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Flashbacks, Food Issues, HYDRA Trash Party, Heimlich Manouver, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra (Marvel), Imaginary Asphyxiation, M/M, Muzzles, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements, Squick, Trauma, WIP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 09:23:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20739938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAwfulDodger/pseuds/TheAwfulDodger
Summary: His chest spasms and how can he swallow and breathe at the same time, don’t they know that contradicting orders make him freeze up?





	Cruel to be kind - Untitled flashback scene

**Author's Note:**

> This is a snippet of the 'Cruel to be Kind' series that I am writing with Kallanda_Lee. It's currently a WIP of epic proportions, and we haven't been actively working on it recently. I was scrolling through the various files, and found this snippet that has not yet gotten a place in the bigger timeline. I thought it was too good and horrible to let it waste away on my harddrive any longer.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Context: Bucky is sitting on Steve's lap, Steve is feeding him french fries.

He freezes up the second he feels it, Steve’s hand on his cheek. Sure enough, Steve has nothing but benign intentions, just wants to catch the stray drop of ketchup that ended up on Bucky’s cheek, but Bucky cannot help it. In his mind, it’s someone else’s hand, someone he can’t quite remember. And it’s not ketchup, its semen, most of which ended up in his mouth. He clamps his thighs around Steve’s in shock, as Steve’s thumb wipes off the drop of _semen_—ketchup and pushes against his lips._ Good boy_, he hears a ghostly voice rumble in his ear, and his throat closes up.

The ghostly feeling of the muzzle he hated with a passion but loved in a fucked up way wrapping around his face, sealing in the mouthful of _cum_. He can feel it burn in his throat, eyes watering and unable to breathe apart from this thin wheeze through his nose. _Swallow, that’s a good boy_, the ghostly voice tells him, and suddenly he is choking, tears streaming down his face as _the semen_, no, a fry with ketchup, ends up going up his nose.

Steve’s arms are like a vice around him, holding him down, but he needs to get up, get away, he can’t breathe but the metal clamps are holding him down and he-can_NOT-**BREATHE**_!

He vaguely feels the muscled thighs underneath his own moving, and suddenly he is lowered to the floor by a pair of strong arms, and a familiar face hovers in his line of vision. The awful heaving of his diaphragm is painful but he cannot stop it, as he cannot stop the feeling of the muzzle clamped around his face as he struggles for air. He can feel the crest of panic being pushed higher and higher as black spots start to dance in front of his eyes, drowning out Steve’s too-blue eyes. His mouth is clamped shut, muzzle keeping the mouthful of _cum_ inside, even as his heaving chest forces the pieces of potato into his windpipe and up his nose.

There is someone talking, two voices blending together, no_ three voices_ all in a cacaphony of sound. His name is in there, _Soldier_-**no—Bucky**-breathe-buck-_goodboySoldierswallow_-Buck**BREATHE** but he’s not sure if all the voices are in the room or just coming from the dark at the edges of his vision. His chest spasms and how can he swallow and breathe at the same time, don’t they know that contradicting orders make him freeze up?

The world tilts sideways as his teeth creak from the pressure and he wishes they would take off the muzzle again. Steve’s hands are on his face, clawing at the collar of his t-shirt but he won’t unclasp the muzzle. Steel bands wrap around his ribcage once more, the fist right under his ribcage as his legs are sort-of-crooked underneath him but bracketed by Steve’s muscular legs and someone else’s knees. They tighten suddenly and mercilessly, increasing the blackness for a moment as that fist is forced underneath his ribcage and into his fluttering chest. He can feel the _semen_ being forced up his nose by the rush of air, but still they will not remove the muzzle.

Again, the metal bands tighten and the fist compresses his burning lungs and finally, the muzzle falls off. The room buzzes around him as the last of _the cum_\--ketchup-covered potato is forced back up his windpipe and out through his mouth. For one terrifying second, air will not come, but when it does, it rushes into his lungs in the sweetest way possible. Steve’s face swims back into focus, Steve’s hands on his shoulders, Steve’s breath on his face. The water in Bucky’s eyes makes it look like Steve’s eyes are wet too.

There’s something in his nose and it burns like fuck, and the metal bands are still firmly around his ribs, holding him up between Steve’s legs and another pair of jeanclad knees. He glances down and sees familiar brown arms, wrapped around him as securely as Steve’s hands on his shoulders.

“--Steve...” he manages to croak, shakily bringing an arm up and running the sleeve over his mouth. It comes away with saliva, bile and chunks of french fry and he grimaces. Suddenly, Steve’s hands are there, tugging at his sleeve and wiping his nose with a napkin while the familiar dark arms keep him safely upright.

Bucky looks around blearily, but the muzzle is nowhere in sight. It should be on the floor somewhere... he cranes his neck a bit to look behind him, ribs protesting as he twists in those reliable arms. Sam-_Sam’s here and holding him up-_ gives him a gentle smile and a “Hey man...” as Bucky looks over his shoulder, leaning his left hand on Sam’s demin clad knee that is right next to his hip for support. His nose still burns and he wants to stick a finger up it but he needs to locate the muzzle first before they can suprise him with it again.

Steve’s hand with the napkin follows his face, scrubbing at it a bit. It catches his chin and gently pulls his face back to face Steve’s impossibly blue eyes. Steve’s face is grim and wet, but the napkin is at his nose and he’s ordered to blow. It takes a second to register, but then Bucky blows his nose into Steve’s waiting napkin, and it hurts-_mother**FUCK**it**HURTS**_ but the whateveritwas is dislodged and snorted into the paper. Only then it registers that Steve’s mouth is not just moving, he is talking, and probably has been for some time. Now that he concentrates, he can make out Steve’s voice over the roaring in his ears. The napkin is pulled away, folded and tucked somewhere despite the disgusting mess of snot, bile, saliva and _seme_\---french fry in it that came from Bucky’s nose.

“---you go, Buck, you’re fine, we’re good, just keep breathing okay, we’ve got you---“

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love and combat the writersblock!


End file.
